


Melanistic

by Cieltee



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: All Aliens are Human, Eventual Fluff, Human AU, Kinda, Minor Hunk/Shay, More Tags Later?, Multi, Oh And Shay is Human, Other Voltron Characters Will be Mentioned, Shance Is Main Focus, Shiro is Adoptive Sib of the Holts Sibs, Slightly Sad on Lance's Part, Still Fleshing Things Out, Voltron is More of a Club, bit of a modern au, slow burn?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2018-09-30 14:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10164740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cieltee/pseuds/Cieltee
Summary: It's surprising how many things can happen in high school. Sure, there's the typical drama over the different cliques and dating. Always dating, seeing how high school is just a big zoo full of hormonal teenagers. If only it were as pleasant as the zoo itself. At least, that's how Lance McLain felt when it came to his day-to-day life as a junior at Altea Garrison High; he should have been happier, only needing to complete less than 2 more years. But he wasn't. He felt incomplete despite having some good friends to keep his spirits high. Maybe he needed a new outlet- swimming was fine and all, especially because he was now the star of the freestyle relays due to the previous star dropped out of the team, but it just wasn't enough...But wait! There's been a new club that's been chattered about off and on recently, one named Voltron. No one really knows what it's about or who's in charge, but obviously it's something that hasn't been around before. At least, at first it seems that way. In hopes to have something to help him be at least a little bit happier, Lance gives the new club a shot.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing, but I hope y'all enjoy this.
> 
> Shiro = Senior; Pidge = Junior (skipped freshman and sophomore year, should really just be in college, goodness); Hunk = Junior; Keith = Junior; Allura = Senior; Coran = Teacher and therefore the sponsor of the club...because that's a thing that has to be a thing? Clubs are weird.
> 
> Oh and Matt is in here, but he's a college kid and only is briefly mentioned because he's...you know, in college. Private college too. Fun.
> 
> So yeah, have fun reading this.

“What happened to the days where school was actually fun? Where you looked forward to the next lesson or seeing your friends? Where you are actually invested in getting to the cafeteria because holy crow, it’s ‘Taco Tuesday’? Apparently, out the window and straight into a black hole as soon as you realize that one day, you’re done. You’re an adult. The day you realize that you are no longer a child and will have to grow up is the day that school is no longer fun. Thank you for listening,” said a lanky teen with caramel skin and messy yet short hair, bowing slightly at the end of his tiny presentation. The small sea of faces in front of him just blinked boredly as they gave little claps, as was expected of them regardless of whether they enjoyed the presentation or not. The teen had a feeling that they secretly all agreed or were too bored to give a crap at the moment.

“Thank you, Lance, for that presentation. I was expecting some more supporting material, but for a quick assignment it wasn’t too bad,” said his teacher, gesturing for him to take a seat so the next student could talk. Lance just shrugged like it was no big deal, which it was in fact not a big deal, and sat back down at his desk. His best friend gave him a pat on the back, murmuring about how it was cool idea. That was Hunk for ya- even if you gave him a simple two word explanation or story, he would still hang on your every word and be impressed.

The presentations continued for another 10 minutes before the bell finally rang, ending the class period. While the students filed out of the room, the teacher gave them reminders about their homework for that night, earning some groans and sighs. Lance wasn’t really phased- considering how reading a short story and writing down a short essay response about how he thought of it was the only thing he had to do, he didn’t see it as much of a problem. Hunk, on the other hand, was one of the groaners. 

“Ah, man, another essay? We’ve done like...10 this month, and the month just started like a week ago. If I had known that creative writing was just going to be a bunch of essays, I would have taken home eq again,” whined the taller and bulkier teen. Lance smirked, knowing that Hunk wasn’t really bothered by the essays, considering how he usually finished his in ten minutes and would score a B at the very least.

“Just wait, Hunk my man- next week is poetry, meaning we can start wooing some ladies with the language of love~”

“Actually, French is classified as the language of love or whatever. Plus, I have Shay, so why should I do any wooing of other girls?” questioned Hunk, raising a brow at Lance.

“Pfft, it’s called practice, duh. You spill some of your sly words to a girl and use her reaction as a gauge on how effective they’ll be on Shay. And if it bothers you about talking to other girls, you can always just ask Shay if she’s cool with it. Which I totally think she would be, being that cool and laid back type, you know?” 

Hunk just gave a hesitant shrug just as they arrived at their lockers, which were only separated because someone claimed the locker right in between them. They weren’t entirely sure who claimed it, having never seen the individual, but it didn’t really bother them. “I’m not too sure about this, but if Shay’s fine with it, then I guess I could try with a few girls...Also, I’m not in anyway, shape, or form sly.”

“Nah man, you’re totally sly. Especially when you talk about food,” said Lance with a snicker, opening his locker. He deposited his backpack inside, not needing it until after lunch, and closed the metal box with a clunky, metallic clang.

“Oh boy, you just had to mention food,” sighed Hunk, his stomach rumbling as he realized he was hungry. “Why can't it be Taco Tuesday?”

“Because it's Wednesday, which I guess could be called Wacky Wednesday but to be honest, the only wacky thing about Wednesday is the spelling. Is it suppose to be ‘Wed-ness-day’ or ‘Winds-day’?” asked Lance turning towards Hunk whilst leaning against his locker. He was oblivious to the fact that Pidge, a junior just like them but 2 years younger, had shown up right beside him. So he ended up being spooked when she spoke up. 

“While calling it ‘Winds-day’ is kind of the norm, Wednesday actually has nothing to do with wind. See, the name ‘Wednesday’ derives from two mighty but distinct gods. The Old English word for Wednesday indicates that the day was named for the Germanic god Woden. In Romance languages, the name is derived from the Roman god Mercury-” said Pidge in a matter-of-fact tone before Lance stopped her to scold her for startling him, to which she only rolled her eyes. “Why are you discussing Wednesday anyways? Besides it being the current day of the week?”

“I was wishing it was Taco Tuesday,” Hunk admitted, giving a shrug. 

“But Frito Pie Friday is your favorite.”

“I know- I just want tacos.”

“Well, if we go now, we can hit up Taco Bueno,” offered Pidge, fishing out her wallet. She barely had it pulled out before the bulky teen had plucked her up and started bee-lining for the front of the school. “Hey!”

Lance chuckled and followed after them, listening to the younger girl scold Hunk for carrying her like a child, to which Hunk pointed out that she was a child. His friends were just so cool, both in the smart department and funny spectrum. He kind of wished he was as witty as them but at the same time, he was happy being the average Joe. If they were all smarty-pants then they wouldn't be good friends. Maybe acquaintances but not friends. As they made their way out of the school, Lance noticed a familiar mullet out of the corner of his eye. However, as he went to turn to look at the owner of said mullet, they had already vanished around a corner. 

_I wonder where he's sulking off to…_ thought Lance but he didn't get to investigate like he wanted. Taco Bueno and a hungry Hunk were calling him, the latter quite literally. He hurried up to catch up with his friends, calling out an apology for falling behind. 

\-----

“Allura, are you sure about this? I mean, being the head of your Girl Scouts troop when you were younger is one thing but this is… are you sure you can handle being a club president? Of a high school club?” asked a ginger haired man with a matching mustache. He was seated at a desk in the machine shop class, which was next to the JROTC class meaning it was usually a loud area. However when it was lunch time, it became a quiet place to be in, making it easier for the teachers of both classes to relax for a while. In front of his desk was an African American girl with silvery white hair- it should have been viewed as a break of the rules but according to her doctors, it was totally natural along with her almost elven features. She looked quite serious. 

“I'm very sure, Mr. Smyth-”

“Coran, please. I don't like going by Mr. Smyth.”

“...Coran, I’m very sure about this. What could possibly go wrong? It’s a club that is about working together to help out those in need- this school needs this club! Without Voltron, bullies like Zarkon will only get worse and worse, leading to total chaos; soon we’ll be one of those schools that have a reputation for being a place where delinquents go and cause havok, having total disrespect towards those around them,” explained Allura, sounding very much like she should go into politics or something similar. Maybe be a motivational speaker for college students just before finals. She looked very determined, like a natural born leader.

Coran gave his mustache a thoughtful twirl. “Hmm… I understand where you’re coming from, Allura, I really do. But this kind of club… well, to be honest, anything like it is really only heard of in children’s cartoons. This is high school, where most of the population is going through a hormonal change and lots of mood swings. Completely different than second graders who have the same hormonal levels due to still developing, innocent minds. Well, mostly innocent- somewhat forgot about those new age kids… Basically, what I’m getting at, is are you sure you can get at least five other students to work with you? According to the school’s rules, clubs can only be made official if they have 6 students- 7 if it’s a sports club, which this clearly isn’t.”

“Trust me, Mr. Sm- Coran. I know very well that I can, and will, be able to bring together a group of students. All I have to do is find those who have the right qualities of being able to work together and have a common enemy.”

“I hope you don’t mean enlisting the help of those who Zarkon bullies. That can go bad three ways to Sunday.”

Allura shook her head, “No, I don’t think I would be looking to… enlist them, as you so put. If they wish to join Voltron’s cause, then I’ll accept their aid, but I’d rather they not be put in more harms way then they already are. They could help with community work though- I hear that the senior home has been lacking in bright young faces. And the park recently lost the flower garden due to the ice storm.”

“Very true- I haven’t seen an ice storm like that since I was a wee lad back in Montreal. But you think you can get this done?”

Again, Allura nodded, her silvery hair bouncing ever so slightly at the movement. “You can count on me, Mr… Coran.”

“Alright...If you can find five students by Friday, I’ll talk to the principle about having this club made official,” said the teacher, sitting back in his chair.

The girl looked shocked. “Friday? Coran, that’s too soon! I hardly have any time to interview candidates or even make flyers-”

“Friday is the deadline, my dear, at least for this semester. You could try again in the fall, but Zarkon and his lot graduate this year unless they get held back. Considering how Ms. Haggar is keeping them in check as far as grades go, I have a bad feeling that they’ll pass even if they have suspensions. It’s Friday or nothing, I’m afraid.”

Allura looked grimly down before nodding. What choice did she have? _If I don’t put a stop to Zarkon’s ways, he’s only going to leave a bad history for the school. Or worse, a foothold for those who are like him. He has to be stopped…_ “I’ll see what I can do.”

Coran lean forward and gave an encouraging look, “I believe in you, Allura. Not because you’re a great individual and have stupendous leadership skills… But because you’re just like your father. He’d be proud of you, my dear.”

A sad look crossed both of their faces, but Allura tried to smile despite it, “Thank you… Coran. I won’t let you down.” With that, she left his office, hurrying off to get lunch as well as look for students to join Voltron.


	2. Trouble, Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zarkon actually makes an appearance...and is clearly a jerk. Shiro also makes an appearance, however he isn't actually named yet. Baja Blast can totally be made with Mountain Dew and Powerade- have I done this before? Yes. Is it as satisfying? You decide.

“Keith! Hey, Keith, wait up!” called a voice, catching the attention of a teen with a slight mullet. The teen turned around to spot one of the slightly known gymnastics team member running up to him. The individual skidded to a stop before he would crash into him, a little out of breath for a moment before he held out a pamphlet to Keith. “Forgot to give this to you.”

Keith gave the pamphlet a wary look before looking back at the other teen, “Thace, I-”

Thace held up his other hand, cutting Keith off, “Hear me out: you don’t have to join, I know this isn’t...well, this isn’t something that you’re really known for being interested in, but I just want you to think about it. I know that the Marmora Group isn’t that well known and that we’re just a bunch of… I know that, and I understand if you’re not interested, but can you give it thought? Just come to the first meeting and if you hate it, it’s cool.”

The mullet bearing teen shifted uncomfortably on his feet, looking back at the pamphlet. The Marmora Group was an after school program for gymnastic and parkour enthusiasts, but was also known to be full of reckless teenagers. At least, that’s what the city has made them out to be due to their activities being seen as a ‘disturbance to the peace.’ Still, Keith himself was actually a pretty good gymnast, having had participated in gymnastics back when he was in elementary and middle school. But that all changed when his father passed away, leaving the mullet bearing teen to be tossed about in the system before finally being old enough to live on his own. While that may sound for the best, no longer being juggled about from home to home, it did leave the teen with a part-time job that was actually making him work more hours than what was considered legal- especially for a high school student. This left him with few hours to do homework, let alone after school activities.

Still, the idea of being part of a group, even one that was slightly infamous like the Marmora Group… it was inticising. Keith hesitantly accepted the pamphlet from Thace, who grinned almost ear to ear. “Thanks, Keith. I’ll see you at the meeting- it’s during lunch tomorrow, so no worries, yeah?”

Keith just nodded mutely before the other teen clapped him cheerfully on the back and jogged away, no doubt heading on to his next class. When the other was out of sight, Keith let out a long and tired sigh. _What am I going to do? I have homework and work to juggle… Should I just not go outright?_ he wondered, being mindful to not speak his thoughts aloud as he made his own way to class. _Maybe I could talk to Mr. Slav about this-_

Before he could even entertain anymore thoughts, he suddenly found himself to be horizontal and with a dull throb in his chest and back, his backpack not even offering a cushion- that’s probably from his textbooks though. He blinked in confusion and discomfort as he looked up to see what caused him to fall.

“Little man fall down? Aw, maybe he should have been looking where he was going,” sneered a large, strong individual with a deep, almost raspy voice. Keith’s expression turned into a glare as he regard the other teen, as well as a pair of goons that always seemed to be around him.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a giant screw off, I would have been able to see clearly- pretty sure you even block out the sun if you stand just right with that big head of yours,” hissed the mullet bearing teen, propping himself up with his elbows, hands clenched into fists.

The larger teen shot his own glare, as did his goons, and crossed his arms. “I don’t think you’re in a position to be throwing insults, even if they’re pathetic like you,” as the teen spoke, the aforementioned goons moved to block off pretty much any ways of escape for Keith, boxing him in. The larger teen raised his foot and rested it on Keith’s chest, pushing him back down and grinding his back into his textbooks. “So small, like a worm. I bet you even squirm like one, Kogane.”

Keith growled behind gritted teeth, reaching up to push the other’s foot off his chest- just to grunt out in pain when the goons stepped on his upper arms, pinning them in place. _Just what I need, another 3 against 1 beatdown,_ he thought grimly, bracing himself for whatever physical damage the three were going to inflict upon him. 

“Hey!” shouted a voice, attracting all of their attention. Keith couldn’t see the speaker from where he was, though he did try to crane his head towards their voice. “Get the hell off of him, assholes, or I’ll make you.”

The larger teen that was pressing his foot against Keith’s chest let out a dark, short laugh, “As if you could.”

Whoever it was that had spoke apparently came closer, as their voice was louder and not because they were yelling- also Keith could see their shoes just beside the large teen, but not their face due to a goon blocking his view. “I won’t tell you again, Zarkon- get off or I will make you,” growled the mystery teen, his voice sending a chill down the pinned teen’s spine.

Zarkon glared at them for a few moments, looking like he was very close to just swing at the hidden individual, only to let out a ‘tch’ and move his foot from Keith’s chest. His goons followed suit by releasing his arms, which Keith drew in close to rub away at what were bound to be bruises later. The tension in the air stayed even as the three bullies moved away from the mullet bearing teen, revealing a strong looking teen with white bangs amongst black, closely trimmed hair. The mystery teen glowered at the bullies until they were out of sight, the trio having had walked away from the other two; once they were gone, he looked back at Keith. 

“You okay?” he asked, leaning down to offer Keith a hand. Keith accepted, only because his arms and back were too sore for him to just push himself up on his own.

“Yeah...peachy.”

“Sorry I didn’t swoop in sooner- I had to drop my bag inside my class so I wouldn’t be counted absent. You sure you’re okay? I can walk you to the nurse if you need some ice.”

Keith shook his head, avoiding the other’s gaze, “I’m fine. And...thanks, I guess. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, well, I was raised to help those in need, even if they can handle their own. I’m pretty sure you could have taken Zarkon on easily, but with Sendak and Prorok there, I think you would have had...well, trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it- you helped me to give your ego a little pick-me-up. Glad to be of service by being the victim,” Keith grumbled, pushing past the teen- whose name he didn’t catch- and hurrying along to get to class, seeing how if he didn’t, he would be late. The teen with white bangs sputtered, trying to explain himself, but Keith was already out of earshot and soon out of view, leaving the teen to stand there feeling misunderstood. 

“I was only trying to help…”

\-----

“Hey, Lance, have you heard about this group?” asked Pidge, passing the Latino the flyer she had plucked from the high school’s bulletin board- there had been about five there so one missing wouldn’t be a real issue. Lance gave it a look over, brows furrowing as he read over the details.

“Mmm...No? This new?”

“I think so. I haven’t seen these flyers around before,” admitted the younger teen, taking a swig of her improvised Baja Blast- really it was just blue Powerade and Mountain Dew, which wouldn’t be possible a few years ago but thankfully Taco Bell added the latter beverage to their drink fountain. “Apparently they’re looking for members to join, and on a pretty short notice.”

Lance nodded as he passed the flyer to Hunk, who kept trying to read over his shoulder instead of being patient and just waiting like a normal person. “Tell me about it- five members by Friday? That’s crazy.”

“You know, they have some good material going for them,” commented Hunk as he read, “and I think I know the girl behind this. Allura, right? She’s the former principal’s daughter, you know, Mr. Altean? I know, pretty cool that she’s the granddaughter of the founder of the school, but anyways, this stuff? The helpful community stuff? Totally her schtick, and I mean that in a good way. I don’t know why, but she really likes helping others and is pretty good at getting stuff done.”

“This thing is ran by a girl?!” asked Lance, his mind totally blown. “No way, what does she look like?”

“Uh, African American descent with platinum blonde hair?”

“Platinum? What, does she dye it? How African is she?”

“Through in through, actually,” Pidge said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I have Chemistry with her and her hair? Totally natural. I asked her about it and she told me it’s due to having Waardenburg Syndrome-”

“Wait, Wardenburg? Is that a place in Russia or something?” Lance asked, interrupting Pidge.

The girl gave him an annoyed look before she went into full explanation mode, sounding like an audio-book for a medical and history dictionary. She didn’t stop at all, even whenever Hunk tried to plead that she cease, until they started cleaning up their table at Taco Bueno and began heading back to the school. Lance looked like he just got through a 5 hour lecture while Hunk looked rather embarrassed while also feigning amazement. Actually, with Hunk, it could have been a blend of both. When Pidge ran out of educational steam, Lance quickly changed their topic to that of their initial thoughts of this mysterious club being ran by what Pidge and Hunk pretty much described to be a beautiful girl of the rarest kind.

“Oh… Well, I think I’m going to have to talk to Allura about it. I don’t have any club activities this semester, seeing how the Science Club was...well, basic science and ran by students who only wanted to do their homework together,” the youngest teen admitted, taking off her glasses to clean them. 

“I might try to talk to Shay about it- this sounds like something she would be interested in, or at least help me decide if I would be interested in.” 

It was clear that Pidge and Hunk were considering to join, which Lance thought was cool; however, when they looked at him expectantly for his answer, he looked a little flustered. “I hope you guys have fun with it- maybe you can tell me about it sometime, you know, if you two join.”

“Oh, right, you have the swim team… Probably would be too complicated to go to practice, swim meets, and attend this club,” said Hunk thoughtfully, giving Lance an understanding look. “We’ll totally tell you about it, though I don’t know if we’ll even be joining.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you two will,” Lance commented, giving them a knowing look.

“What makes you say that?” questioned Pidge, who had by then finished cleaning her glasses and placed them back on her face.

“Call it a hunch. Hey, I’ll catch you guys later- my class is meeting in the library and I gotta scram if I don’t want to be late.” With a wave, Lance parted ways from his two friends, who both voiced their own farewells before heading in a different direction than he was. The Latino couldn’t actually explain why he had a feeling that the others would go join this new, mysterious club. Something just told him that they would, especially in Hunk’s case, seeing how he was a big walking teddy bear that liked helping other just as much as he liked eating food. Another thing that lead to Lance departing early, besides the library thing, was a feeling of loneliness that suddenly blossomed in his gut. Hunk was right- it would be complicated to attend another club alongside the swim team. It didn’t help that he felt like this new club was going to take his friends away, which he knew it wouldn’t. It was just… he wasn’t entirely sure, actually. 

_Probably just anxiety or something. I bet it’s no biggie,_ Lance thought as he approached the library, dismissing the feeling that kneaded at his belly. “Probably should have skipped the bean burritos, too…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remembered what medical terminology I was trying to use for how I was explaining Allura's hair being natural and stuff. The condition is Waardenburg Syndrome- check it out if you like, and if you do, be thankful that I didn't put a whole lot about it via Pidge's explanation and my description about it in the previous chapter.
> 
> Also, if anyone would like to make some fan art of how you would see human Shay, Sendak, Zarkon, and Prorok, and would also like to share it with me, feel free to send it to my tumblr, weeabooguppy.tumblr.com


	3. Puzzling Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance has issues, and one of them is thinking his friends doesn't need him. And a certain beauty makes her second appearance- and a goon makes his second.

_The school was so dark, almost like it was coated thickly with ink. It was also cold, but not like someone had left the AC on. It was a deep, alienating chill that dragged at him, trying to bring him to a standstill in the ebbing abyss around him. Lance shivered as he walked down the seemingly endless hallway, his breath coming out in ghostly trendles before him. His footsteps resonated in the eerily quiet corridor, which puzzled him greatly. Where was everyone? It was passing period- shouldn’t people be moving about in their usual endless stream? But no, the halls were barren and it made them feel even colder._

_As Lance continued down the silent halls, he felt like the air was getting heavier, tighter, almost like it was condensing around him. He looked around, trying to ease his racing mind- what if this was just a prank? Or a bad daydream? It felt so real though, so much that he questioning if it was possible that everything around him was actually a cold yet very real reality. He was about to succumb to this notion when he finally noticed a door was ajar just ahead, a soft light glimmering from its small opening. A flash of hope warmed him ever so slightly as he picked up his pace, sprinting towards the door. His heart began to race as the surround darkness seemed to pull at him, like it was trying to prevent him from getting to door- and light- at the end of the hall._

_Somehow, though he struggled greatly, Lance finally reached the door, practically crashing into it and yet also just reaching it as if he had been slowly walking to it. His legs felt like he just ran a mile in a river of thick, inky syrup. Nevertheless, he reached out and pushed the door open slowly- couldn’t interrupt a class, now could he? The door opened up to a bright light, one so bright that Lance had to shield his eyes as he entered the room. When his eyes finally adjusted- or maybe the light’s intensity had lessened- he blurrily looked around at his surroundings._

_He could have sworn that the door was a normal classroom door, and yet there he was, somehow front in center in the gymnasium. The bleachers had been pulled out and were filled almost to the brim with the students of the school. They had wide grins on their faces, their blank sea of faces. Someone started to chuckle, the noise seemingly spreading like a ripple throughout the crowd. It was dark and sinister, sending a chill through Lance’s core as it grew louder and louder. He spotted his friends, Hunk and Pidge, in the front row- they, too, were laughing, though they at least had noticeable features._

_“Why are you laughing?” Lance asked loudly, trying to be heard over the laughter that echoed around him. No one answered, so he asked again, this time louder, “Why are you laughing? What’s so funny?”_

_Pidge pointed at him, as did almost everyone else. Through a bout of giggles, she answered as clear as day, “You of course! Why wouldn’t we laugh at a joke like you?”_

_“What?” Lance was taken aback, confused at her words._

_“Yeah, why wouldn’t we?” joined Hunk, practically doubling over with a bout of laughter before looking back up at Lance, “You’re such a joke. A hilarity. A failure.”  
“Failure. Failure. Failure.” Like a haunting chorus, the students chanted the word over and over._

_“I’m not a failure!” shouted Lance, stamping his foot in defense. But the voices only grew louder, so much so that he had to cover his ears at the sheer volume. It didn’t help; if anything, they only grew louder and more painful. He dropped to the floor, trying to curl in on himself to shield his sole being from the voices, from the overwhelming feeling of shame, from everything._

_A hand grabbed his shoulder, shaking him-_

“Lance!” said someone sternly, startling him. He looked around, a wild look in his eyes, breathing hard. 

He was in the library, the same dusty old library his class was suppose to meet in. Everyone was there and they were looking at him with confused and concerned looks. He blinked in equal confusion, looking up at his teacher who was standing next to him. 

“Lance, we came to the library to finish research for your assignments, not sleep,” she said sternly, frowning at him. 

_Sleep? I-I was asleep?_ Lance thought as he apologized, turning back to face his computer screen, slowly calming down. _It was just a dream… Oh thank crow, it was just a dream. Holy crow, I don’t want to live through that again...like, ever._

\-----

It’s interesting how the weather can change so suddenly. Sunny skies were replaced with heavy, brooding grey clouds that threatened to empty their load upon the unsuspecting school and its students. A chilling breeze wafted through the air, making many girls- and some boys- wish they had worn pants instead of shorts. It was a bit amusing to Pidge, who had looked at the weather that morning and wore clothes that wouldn’t leave her miserable. She wasn’t the only one- Allura had done the same, sporting a light cardigan over her tee and a pair of slacks. Something told Pidge that her fellow classmate wasn’t entirely dressed for the weather alone.

 _She must be making herself look more professional so newcomers to her club will take her seriously,_ Pidge thought, pushing her glasses back into place before moving her stuff over to the desk next to the African girl.

Allura gave Pidge a welcoming smile, tipping her head to the side in greeting and slight confusion, “Hello, Katie. What brings you over here? Usually you do not indulge in sitting next to me… or anyone, really.”

“Oh, nothing big… just, word on the street is that you’re trying to start a new club- Voltron, right?”

The elven-esque girl seemed to brighten exponentially, her bright blue eyes shimmering as she leaned forward, “You’re going to join, yes? Voltron could really use a person like you, Katie: someone who is adaptable and protective of others-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa- since when am I protective?” Pidge questioned, interrupting Allura mid-sentence by holding up a hand to get her attention.

“I’ve seen how you stand up to others who are unfair- and need I point out how you jump to your friend’s defense when Zarkon tries to bully him?” The venom in the other girl’s voice was very clear when she mentioned the school’s infamous bully, but wasn’t enough to cause Pidge to question it.

“...Alright, you got me there. Okay, shoot- why would this club of yours benefit from me being in it?” Pidge sat back, at a slight defeat- Allura wasn’t wrong, in fact, she had Pidge nailed to a T. She could count on her fingers and toes twice over about how many times she had helped Lance or another student get out of trouble, most often involving the former and the school’s bully.

“It’s the whole point of Voltron- I want to rally together people who want to stand against Zarkon so that when he leaves, other no-good-doers won’t be tempted to follow in his footsteps. I don’t want to see this school go down the drain because of a rotten egg fouling up its name and reputation… it’s not something anyone should sit by and just let happen.”

“...It’s something your dad would have been proud of, huh?”

“...Yes… Yes it would,” Allura agreed, showing a saddened smile. Pidge reached into her backpack and retrieved a sleeve of tissues, passing it to the other girl who accepted it with a soft thank you. They held a moment of silence in respect for the late principal and father as Allura gently dabbed at her eyes, getting rid of any tears that had bubbled over. The moment passed when she cleared her throat, “So...Katie… Would you be interested in joining me on my mission?”

Pidge gave a teasing smile, “Oh, it’s a mission now, huh? Don’t think I can say ‘no’ now.”

The two clasped hands and grinned at each other. _Finally, my first teammate,_ thought Allura, glad at this turn of events.

\-----

“So, who do you think we should recruit first?” Pidge inquired as she and Allura left their class, the bell still ringing solemnly as they went. “I was thinking we could talk to Hunk- this just seems like something he would be interested in.”

“I have considered Mr. Garrett as well, but I was worried that I would cause him distress if I were to speak with him alone. Perhaps with you at my side, he may be persuaded?”

Pidge gave a confirming nod, “Totally. Though if we gave him the promise of food at the first meeting, he would be attached to us like a tick on a dog. Except, you know, less hick and more friendly.”

Allura gave a small laugh at her analogy, but gave a nod nonetheless, “It sounds doable. Anyone else…?”

“Mmm… We could talk to Takashi.”

“Takashi? I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware there were transfer students-”

“Oh, no,” Pidge quickly interjected, waving her hands, “no, Takashi isn’t a transfer. He’s my foster brother- well, more like adopted since he’s been living with my family since I don’t know when and my folks call him ‘son’ and all. You might know him by the name Shiro?”

“Oh, Shiro! Yes, that name is definitely more familiar. I was unaware you two had history...Would he be interested in this sort of campaign?” Allura asked, looking unsure. As far as she knew about Shiro, he was a former football player who had an accident back in his sophomore year. He also seemed more of a jock than a do gooder, but she wasn’t exactly friends with him in the first place. Hardly anyone at Altea didn’t know of him and those who didn’t were usually freshmen.

“Are you kidding me? He’s all for anti-bullying stuff. He’s constantly butting heads with Zarkon and his gang, complains about him all the time, really.”

“Well… If you could have a word with him, that would be greatly appreciated, Katie.”

“Please, call me Pidge- hardly anyone calls me Katie nowadays. Too girly, you know?”

Allura looked hesitant, but gave a slow nod. She was rather fond of the name Katie, but if Pidge insisted that she be addressed as such then who was she to deny her? _Just give it some time- perhaps you’ll warm up to calling her by that name. Or she’ll give up on correcting you._ “I’ll try my best to call you that… But you will have a word with Shiro, yes?”

Pidge nodded, “Yup. In fact, I have him in my next class.”

“Brilliant,” Allura grinned once again before someone passing by caught her eye. It was a teen with slightly long dark hair and a red and white jacket. He looked withdrawn, like there was a dark cloud hanging over him. Something inside her just wanted to reach out to him and talk about his troubles, but she held back- such urges have gotten her into trouble before. She refocused her attention to Pidge, looking determined, “Keep an ear and eye out for anyone else you think would be dutiful to our cause. And thank you, Ka- Pidge. This means a lot to me.”

“No problem, Allura. I’ll talk to you later,” the younger girl gave a wave as she turned to hurry off to her last period. Allura waved in return and headed off to her own, a feeling of determination continuing to bloom inside her as she looked towards the future of Voltron. But part of her also made her think of the dark haired teen- who was he? And what on Earth was troubling him? _I should try to talk to him… Even just enough to know his name. I can tell he could use someone to talk to… But I won’t push him. Perhaps he might even join Voltron… I hope he will._

\-----

“Hey Hunk! Miss me buddy?” a certain loud and only ever so slightly obnoxious Lance inquired as he slid into his desk, winking at his best friend.

Hunk snickered and waved Lance’s comment off, “Course I did, buddy. And I’m not saying that because school is totally boring and you make it fun, nor am I saying that because it’s what I always say when you ask me it.”

They were a pair of cheeseheads, that was no question. But thankfully their whole facade was a short one as Lance somewhat sobered before asking, “New stuff in Mrs. Donflowr’s?”

The bigger teen shook his head, giving a sigh, “Nope, still on Newton’s law of physics. You know, for a world history class, you would think she would talk about the time period and not one specific person from it.”

“Very true, but at least you don’t have Ropeman- he’s still on the Roman Empire and I’m pretty sure he’s trying to convince us to out him like Caesar. Like, dude, just retire and call it a day.”

“I thought he liked teaching?”

“Apparently not, unless going out like an emperor is his end goal of teaching,” Lance commented, sitting back in his seat, “also, I might need your math book.”

“Why?” Hunk asked, already reaching over to pull out the mentioned book- it wasn’t uncommon that Lance would borrow it, seeing how he often forgot his own at his house due to rushing to school for swim practice in the morning. 

“Well, for once I didn’t actually forget it… but a certain SOMEBODY TOOK IT,” Lance raised his voice as he sat forward, glaring at someone across the room. When Hunk followed his gaze, he saw Sendak glaring back at them before making a rude gesture at Lance.

“I didn’t take shit, Pool Boy.”

“Bullshit, you took it right out of my bag! I saw you do it lunch!”

“I don’t see you proving it,” Sendak sneered, crossing his arms as he sat back in his seat. Lance would have made another jeer at him, but the class’ teacher, Mr. Smythe, just so happened to enter the room. While Mr. Smythe would have helped anyone settle their problems in a very courtly manner, none of the teens wanted to bring it up. 

“G’day class! Everyone in tip-top shape for our lesson?” inquired the teacher.

“Yes sir,” the class droned back.

“Right-o! If you all can open your workbooks to page 234, we’ll get on with learning about making a short back stool-” Mr. Smythe pretty much went on explaining the lesson, turning to the very old, dusty chalkboard at the front of the class. Technically he was suppose to take role, but everyone had learned by now that Mr. Smythe was very proficient with keeping track of who was absent or not.

Lance leaned over towards Hunk, speaking quietly, “I’m not joking, Sendak really did take my math book. Issue is, I have no idea where he put it- you know how he is, he never brings his supplies to class. I don’t even know if he has a backpack or a locker.”

“Why don’t we just ask the campus police if they can look around?” asked Hunk, talking in an equally quiet tone.

“I tried, but they won’t listen. I think I’ve been blacklisted by now because of how many times I have to ask them to look for my stuff after Sendak or Zarkon nabbing it. Each time they go look, I always find it first and in worse condition than it was in before it was taken.”

“Well, let’s look around the school after our last class, see if we can find it,” offered Hunk, trying to sound positive for his friend.

“Find what?” asked Mr. Smythe, surprising both Lance and Hunk. He didn’t bat an eye when they both recoiled, going stiff in their seats. “Well? What are you trying to find? Share with the class, lads.”

“Uh… Find the….right page! Mine seems to be sticking, I think glue from the factory must have gotten on the pages,” Lance bluffed, gesturing to his workbook.

“...You realize that you’ve got out a math workbook, correct?”

Lance went blank faced as he looked down at the workbook. “Oh… Well, I’ll be.”

“Next time, Lance, make sure you have a well put together bluff before you tell it. Just like you best be sure you have a well put together stool! Can’t have it falling out from under you, now can you?” It was a relief at how light hearted Mr. Smythe could be, even when he catches a student lying.

“Eh heh… Yes, sir. Will do, sir.” Lance could feel the burning smirk of Sendak across the room, even with Hunk and the teacher in the way. _Man, I really want to punch him… Just one punch in the face, bam! Such a douchebag…_

It was safe to say that the sneering teen probably held mutual feelings about punching Lance in the face. It was enough to make Hunk want to sigh and sink in his seat.

“Now, back to the history on short back stools! You see-” Mr. Smythe continued, speaking as if there wasn’t any tension between two of his students. And yeah, no one wants to hear about the histories of furniture, let alone a stool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In later chapters, Coran will just be addressed as Coran instead of Mr. Smythe.  
> And I really tried to make this one go longer but it had its own plans.
> 
> I think Shiro and Keith will be having another scene in the next chapter, but no promises.
> 
> And as always, if you'd like to share fanart or ask me any questions, you can submit them to my tumblr: weeabooguppy.tumblr.com


	4. Raining Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's raining men! Or rather, raining on them. Lance and Shiro's first interaction! But also some drama with Keith- is he alright? Plus, Voltron has its second recruit!

“... I don't think I can do it.”

“What?”

Keith looked up at Thace, a defeated look on his face as he was sitting on the bench by the wall of lockers. His purple-tinged grey eyes were filled with melancholy and disappointment, blinking slowly as he spoke again in his somber Texan drawl, “I don't think I can do it. Join Marmora… “

“But… why? What came up?” Thace questioned, gently closing his gym locker as he turned to face the sullen teen, leaning against the painted metal. 

“... Me. I came up… I thought I would have a chance to join, but something deep down just... I can't, Thace.”

“Keith… is it just not a good time? I know you work super hard and… Buddy, do you need to talk with someone?”

Keith gave a shake of his head, gaze dropping to his arms in his lap. He was quiet for a few moments, but the kind of quiet where his body language screamed he still had something to say. He clasped his hands together, giving the combined fists a light shake before looking up at Thace once more. “You… you know those times where you want to really say stuff that is on your mind but don't say a thing? Because part of you tells you that you can shoulder your issues by yourself? And as much as you want to tell yourself that you can't… it won't listen? I really… really hate it when my mind gets like that.”

Thace gave him a worried look, frowning slightly. “I think you should try to talk with someone, Keith- this ain't healthy.”

Keith stood up with a half-hearted chuckle, clapping the other teen on the shoulder,”What's the point? I'm fucked up anyways. I'll catch you around, ‘kay, Thace?”

“Keith-” the parkour enthusiast tried to reach out to stop the other teen, but Keith evaded their grasp and was beelining for the exit quickly. Thace gave a deep sigh, shaking his head. Clearly, this was out of his hands for the time being.

\-----

“Hey, Hunk! Got a second?” chirped a rather chipper looking Pidge as she approached her taller friend. He was just about finished with packing his stuff from class into his bag when she had shown up, causing him to pause with his hand half in his backpack.

“Uh, sure. Shoot? Don't actually shoot- I know you’ve got rubber bands aplenty, which is weird because you rarely have a reason to use them.”

Pidge snickered, “I wouldn't have gotten your attention if I wanted to shoot a rubber band at you, but I admire how observant you are about my artillery.”

“More like vigilant- gotta watch out for myself.”

“Heh, good point… Anyways, I wanted to talk about that club Allura is starting-”

“Sure.”

“Ah- uh… Well, you see, it's kind of a good-doer thing, like being community heroes and… I mean, I know you like helping others, it's practically what you live and breathe-”

“You want me to join because I'm a good guy.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, you can say no-”

“Okay.”

Pidge blinked, taken aback. She hadn't expected this, even though she was super sure that Hunk would totally be on board with the idea of being apart of something like Voltron. Still. “Okay?”

Hunk gave a nod, resuming his packing absently, “Yeah. I mean, it sounds like it's a good club to be in, so why not? Plus, you’re right about me helping others.”

“Oh...okay then. I.. I guess I'll tell Allura then?”

Hunk raised a brow at her, “You weren't expecting me to say yes, were you?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Pidge said cheekily. She patted the taller teen on the arm before scuttling away, grinning ear to ear. Hunk rolled his eyes, but even he was grinning too.

\-----

Lance shrugged his school bag higher onto his shoulder, gripping the strap tightly. Perhaps too tightly, but he wasn't concerned about imprints from the fabric being stuck in his hand for a while. He was too dead set on preventing Sendak from getting his bag again to care or notice. Even if he has to hold his own kicking and screaming. Walking down the hall, Lance peaked around anything that remotely looked like a corner, keeping his eyes peeled for big, hulking, and ugly. In truth, the deserted hallway felt like it was getting creepier by the second, sending a chill up his shoulder as he listened to the subtle squeak of his shoes against the linoleum tiles. His daydream from earlier didn't help much either, nor did the knots in his belly.

Lance gave himself a shake. _It's cool, it's cool, just the end of a long day at school-_ his self-imposed calming tactic was going pretty stellar until he turned around that final corner and suddenly there was a person showing up out of freaking nowhere. It would be a lie if he said he didn't scream a little- though the other individual was startled as well, both jumping back and reigning in their fastly beating hearts. 

“Holy fuck! Why did that happen- oh sweet Jesus- _Dios mio_ -” wheezed Lance, patting his chest like it would calm down. 

“I'm... Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you- o-or myself,” said the stranger, a student by the looks of his school bag. Lance noted they actually had two bags, one being the school bag and the second being a very well used gym bag. He also noted the fringe of white hair amidst the other teen’s cropped black hair. And the fact they were holding out their hand with an apologetic look. “Really, really sorry. I was just heading back to my locker to grab some things before heading on home. Are you okay?”

Lance’s heart fluttered, something that left him feeling odd as he took hold of the other teen’s hand, shaking it gingerly. “Uh… Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Uh… Nice gym bag.”

The white fringed teen gave him a gentle smile, “Thanks. It's a hand-me-down, but I take good care of it.”

“Uh huh… Um, you in sports?”

“Yeah, football. And you?”

“Not in football,” Lance said a little clumsily, “but I'm on the team swim- I mean swim team!”

It seemed like the white fringed teen could just smile for days. It was a bit stunning, Lance admitted, especially with pearly whites that looked like they were carved from ivory before being placed behind- wait, he just said something. Shit, he wasn't paying attention. “I'm sorry, can you repeat that?”

“I said that I considered joining the swim team, but I only have one good arm.”

“What?” Lance took a half step back, looking the other teen over. They looked perfectly fine, albeit a little odd with the single long-sleeve- “Oh.”

Apparently the guy was capable of looking bashful as well, grinning sheepishly, “Yeah, um… Oh.”

“What happened? I-I mean, if it's okay if I ask- I mean, I already did, but you don't have to answer,” Lance said, his clumsy word spew returning as he gestured to the other’s arm. _Way to be insensitive, Lance!_

“Oh, it's cool. It's really a long story, but in short, I was in a bad accident. Thankfully my foster family-”

“You’re in foster care? Dude, how tragic is your life story? An accident, foster care- next you’re going to tell me that you have PTSD or something,” Lance said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as he wrapped his mind around this poor yet still oddly positive- and slightly attractive- teen. 

Said teen was giving him an awestruck look, “How’d you know?”

Oh my God, it's like I'm meeting a puppy who’s had a rough start in life. “I… Lucky guess? Look, um-”

“Shiro.”

“Yeah, Shiro, look I didn't mean to pick on you or anything, sometimes my mouth just- hold up, Shiro? As in the Shiro? Captain and quarterback of the football team Shiro?!” Now Lance was really taken aback, his own awestruck expression taking over his features. _This was so not happening, right? This was just another daydream, right? Right?!_

Shiro looked bashful again- holy shit, he was actually blushing!- as he gave a tentative cough, clearing his throat. “Uh, yeah. That Shiro.”

“Dude! Talk about zero to hero, you’re like, the most popular kid in the school!” gushed the tan skinned teen, stepping closer to the other, giving them a nudge with his elbow. “Especially with the ladies, eh? Eh?”

“Um-”

“Hey! Are you two going to keep standing there? I got a floor to clean, and I will run you over with this floor cleaner if I have to!” shouted someone a little way down the hall. Both boys looked to see the school’s cranky janitor shaking their fist at them as they stood by the large floor cleaner they spoke of. 

“Sorry, Mr. Slav! We were just on our way out,” called Shiro, waving apologetically. The janitor just grumbled at them, waving at them in a ‘get on with you’ wave. Shiro took hold of Lance’s hand and pulled him along after him, heading for the front doors of the school. Lance blushed a little because he had to admit that the other boy’s hand just enfolded around his own in just the nicest way and was surprisingly soft, almost like Shiro never touched a football in his life. But he could tell that the other was indeed a football player, the other teen's grip feeling strong and still peppered with callouses from hard work. It was… Nice. 

“W-what about your locker?” Lance asked, hoping his voice wasn't at all squeaky like he thought it was. 

“Hm? Oh, I was just fibbing about that- my mouth kind of runs away from me sometimes.”

_Sweet Jesus, this boy couldn't be real._

\-----

Shiro ended up pulling Lance along with him all the way to the parking lot by the football field. Which made no sense at first, because Lance’s bike was at the front of the school not by the stadium, but he didn't want to point it out to dark-haired, tall and handsome Shiro. The rain had lightened up dramatically, almost a light sprinkle instead of the roaring downpour from earlier. The droplets of water clung to both of their hair, looking like a spiderweb of dew on the short, almost stubble-like portions of Shiro’s haircut while leaving Lance’s hair clumped together in moist tendrils. The Cuban teen raised his hand up to keep the rain from getting into his eyes and on part of his face, looking like he was doing a salute of some sort. 

“Wasn't expecting to come all the way over here- why do you even park out this far?” he asked, a little frown on his face. 

“I don't. Pidge has her dad drop us off and pick us up at the football field since I have practice a lot. She could just ride the bus, but then that would mean enduring the annoyance that is a moving vehicle full of hormonal teenagers,” explained Shiro, lifting his hand to copy Lance’s rain shielding salute. The white forelock that served as his bangs lay limply against the back of his fingers, plastering to his skin. Lance couldn't help be think that the fringe of white looked so perfect, like an artist had painted it that way with delicate yet precise brush strokes.

“Yeah, busses suck-- wait, you know Pidge?” Apparently, pretty football player hair was enough to slow his brain's capability to process things.

Shiro gave a nod. “Yeah, since she was like two.”

“Ew. But why? Or how?” Lance asked, raising a brow as he processed this newly discovered information. _Pidge knows Shiro, Shiro knows Pidge-- and yet that little squirt never mentioned any of this?_

“Ah, well, you see-” Before Shiro could actually explain, an old Volkswagon Beetle in a brilliant shade of green pulled up next to them, giving a disgruntled beep to get their attention. Lance watched as the passenger side front window slowly rolled down, revealing the short teen girl they were just talking about. 

“Why are you two standing out here in the rain? It's wet and gross and bad for cell phones.”

“Ah, sorry, Pidge. Just used to routine,” Shiro said with what Lance perceived as the most adorable apologetic look on his face. 

“Apology accepted. Hurry up, before it starts downpouring again!” Pidge scooted as far forward as she could in the small, two-door car’s front seat, and pulled the lever that allowed passengers to access the back seat. Which was also small.

_Really? Shiro sits in the back? But, he’s so- so- so tall!_ thought Lance as he watched the football player stuff his bags into the trunk, which had been unlatched and popped open by the car’s driver. It took the Cuban a moment to realize it was Mr. Holt, Pidge’s dad and one of the school’s science teachers. Well, part-time science teacher, considering how he taught at the nearby university in the afternoon.

After closing the trunk, Shiro gave a pause as he was just about to climb into that infernally small backseat. He fixed his gaze upon Lance and gave a little sheepish grin. “I kinda dragged you away from your bike. Would you like a ride home? I wouldn’t want you to get sick from being in the rain too long, especially before swimming season.”

“Oh! Uh- no, no, it’s fine, I’m pretty, uh...pretty re-” 

“I told you two to hurry- come on! I’m being squished!” protested Pidge, once again interrupting their conversation. “Both of you, in the car or we’re leaving you behind.”

“You heard her- in you go. I hope that’s okay,” Shiro said, looking a little embarrassed but also happy. He gestured for Lance to climb in first, sealing the Cuban’s fate. Granted, Lance could always run, but Shiro had a point: it would be bad to get sick when swimming season was just around the corner. With no more words of protest and a nod of thanks, Lance climbed into the back of the tiny car, squeezing himself as far over as he could so Shiro could still have room. Much to his dismay, Shiro was able to squish himself in next to him and still have a little bit of room. _I guess if this is something he does often, he would be used to sitting back here._

“Finally!” cheered Pidge, a touch of annoyance in her voice as she pushed back her seat, locking the two athletes in the back while also pulling the car door close.

“Seatbelt, Katie. Boys, try to hang in back there- though Takashi already knows, I should say that this old girl doesn’t have seatbelts in the backseat. I’ll drive carefully, but you never know about other drivers,” advised Mr. Holt, looking at the teen boys through the rearview mirror. Shiro gave him a thumbs up. Lance gave a soft gulp. 

_Oh boy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I haven't touched this since April. I pretty much was met with the last few semesters of my art degree and just wanted to work hard on my school work. I also had a new job back in August- sadly, it ended in January... But now I have another one starting tomorrow! Wish me luck!
> 
> If you like what you've read, the chapter I mean, then please, leave a comment or kudos. Showing support helps keep me motivated and lets me know that you're enjoying what I've done. Thank you so much!


	5. Awkward Occurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something was bound to happen when you put two teens in the back of a Beetle; even more so when one idolizes the other. It's a shame that Lance's day just keeps getting more complicated as time goes on.

The rain remained steady as it drummed across the roof of the brightly colored meme of a car- cough, sorry, the Volkswagen Beetle. Pidge and her dad were deeply engrossed in discussing a science the young teen was working on. Apparently, she was going to be concocting some sort of serum that would either improve one’s sense of smell and taste or completely numb their tongue, depending on how successful it would end up. Normal parents would say ‘how about we don't and say we did’ but her dad merely suggested to make sure that whomever she tests it out on is willing and also medically insured… And to not tell her mom. 

While the went back and forth on the logistics of Pidge’s experiment, Lance took note that while Shiro was kinda paying attention, it wasn't with deep understanding or passion. Just a vague interest that left him slightly leaning his head forward as he reclined against the awkward backseat, his posture calm and relax, yet attentive. Lance had to tear his gaze away lest he finds himself gawking, or worse, talking about the quarterback out loud. He opted to look out at the dreary cityscape that passed them by as the car made its way through town. 

“-ry about your bike.” a voice said, cutting in before his attention was gone too far. Lance quickly looked back towards Shiro, swallowing as he noticed the other's posture seemed to just be opened towards him. The idle science chatter up front was still there but only registered as white noise as Lance focused solely on Shiro. 

“Sorry?” 

Shiri gave a small nod, “Yeah, because it will be a bit before we can go back for it. I could go out and grab it myself, but I don't actually have my license yet.”

“You don't?” Lance’s brow piques up a bit. The quarterback didn't strike him as one who didn't drive, especially as a senior. 

“My arm makes it a little harder to pass the test, let alone be permitted to drive at all. If it weren't for the Holts, I'd be stuck with a handicap license at best. Thankfully, I'll have a normal one and just an extension on my permit. What about you, you have yours?”

“License, no, permit, yes. I'm saving up for a car, actually,” Lance admitted, slowly relaxing when just a moment prior he felt tense from. Considering the close proximity the two were in, he really shouldn't try to think. Like, about that at all. Seriously. 

“Oh?” Shiro leaned a bit forward, an interested look on his face. “What kind?” 

“Ah… One that runs?” Lance offered with a small shrug.

Shiro was quiet for a moment, then started to chuckle, give his head a little shake, “Yeah, I guess that would be a good idea. Unless you like fixer uppers.”

“Yeah I guess… What kind of car would you like?” Lance asked Shiro, trying super hard to not blush or coo over that adorable chuckle. It was more than adorable, it was handsome, charming, perfect-- _Stop. Stop, please, brain, stop._

“Ah, I really haven't thought about it much. I guess a Dodge Charger would be cool, but I honestly want something that is good with gas, both in town and on the road. I already have decent savings for a hand-me-down or used one… Wouldn't say no to a nice pickup truck, ha ha.”

“Sounds like a good pick me up,” Lance commented without really thinking. 

Before he could regret it, Shiro burst into a small fit of laughter… Just as the Beetle went over a particularly rough patch of road. The boys were jostled around-- Shiro, having expected it or being fairly used to bumpy roads in the back of this mobile tin can, braced himself instinctively. Lance, on the other hand, failed to catch himself and found himself almost dumped into the quarterback’s lap; he would have been there if he hadn't reached out instinctively and brace himself with whatever his hand came into contact first. 

Shiro’s pec, apparently, was a great stopper. 

The two stared at Lance’s hand for a brief moment, before slowly meeting each other's gazes. While Lance didn't notice any anger or distaste in Shiro’s eyes, he still recoiled and straightened himself back up, almost tucking fully into his corner of the backseat. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, uh… So-Sorry, very sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay-” 

“Apologies for the rough patch, boys,” interrupted Mr. Holt, looking at them in the rearview mirror. “Potholes seem to be getting worse everyday, no thanks to this rain and the city not maintaining its road structures.”

Shiro gave a small nod in Mr. Holt’s direction, “No worries, Mr. Holt. We’re alright back here, right Lance?” he questioned, looking over at Lance. 

The swimmer gave a quick nod and looked out the window, making the slightest noise of agreement for those up front. Before he could be hard-pressed about his sudden quietness, Pidge brought up the idea of fixing the potholes with concrete or some solution that would be resistant to weathering. Once again, the father-daughter science duo picked up their white noise chatter, leaving Shiro and Lance to talk if they wanted. But with the seeming cold shoulder the Cuban teen was giving, Shiro found it hard to come up with something to talk about. He gave a soft sigh and looked out his own window. Maybe now just wasn't the time.

\---

The rain only continued to worsen as the Beetle pulled up into the driveway of the eccentric two-story house the Holts-- and Shiro-- called home. Mrs. Holt was already rushing out with an armful of opened umbrellas, passing one to her husband before rounding the other side to give two more to Pidge and Shiro.

When the quarterback got out and stood there shielding the car door from the rain with his umbrella and body, Mrs. Holt gave him a confused look. Lance awkwardly crawled forward, hooking his hood up over his head and tried to wave Shiro out of the way.

“Dude, move, you're blocking the door,” he said as nicely as possible despite the awkward silence that had become him through most of the car ride. 

“Oh! Lance, honey, I didn't know you were coming over-- wait here, lemme get you an umbrella,” Mrs. Holt said at the sound of his voice, scurrying away quickly, following her husband and daughter back into the house. 

“Come on, you can use mine,” said Shiro, not even half a beat after Mrs. Holt left. 

“You’ll get wet,” pointed out Lance, peering up at him with no immediate sign of getting out of the car.

“It’s water, and I’m not made of sugar. I can act like that if you want,” the quarterback offered, shuffling his feet a bit to better shield the other from the rain. “Lance, really, it’s no big deal. Come on, before it starts raining harder and umbrellas become more of a hassle than a helpful tool.”

The swimmer was quiet, weighing his options- take the umbrella and let Shiro, the prized quarterback of the school, get wet and potentially sick… or don’t take it and get drenched himself unless Mrs. Holt came back soon. He would rather just wait it out, or even just go back in time to where he didn’t run into the quarterback standing before him.

Waiting wasn’t an option, or maybe Shiro saw something in Lance’s eyes that seemed to be a flash of an agreement, because the next thing the Cuban knew, he was being helped out of the car- 

And almost sent falling onto the wet concrete of the driveway. In fact, he would have had a strong arm not caught him around his middle. It didn’t save him from the dull thwack of his head smacking into the car door, leaving him to give out a shout and stumble back into the Beetle, Shiro’s arm slipping free from his torso. Stars spun in his gaze as the quarterback gave him a concerned look over, holding his face between his strong hands- or rather, hand and prosthetic- in the most careful, gingerly way. 

“Lance? Lance, I’m so sorry, are you alright? Are you bleeding- did it hit your nose or your forehead?” came Shiro’s voice through the drumming of rain and pounding in his temples. Lance shook his head and tried to wave the other away, just to find himself held in place and looking blurrily into soft, chocolate brown eyes. His gaze slowly fixed itself until he could see Shiro’s eyes and face clearly, taking note of how his forelock had resumed its spider-web-like wash upon his face.

“...I’m okay…” 

With a frown, Shiro dropped his hands to cup the other behind his shoulders and under his legs, pulling him from the car in a total bridal-style carry. Lance gave a soft noise of protest but the quarterback shushed him with a gentle ‘shhh’ as he positioned the umbrella to shield them both. “Hold on, it’s gonna be okay…”

With surprisingly unstaggering steps- what, did Lance just weigh as much as a grape to this man?- Shiro carried Lance to the house. Just as they got to the door, it swung open to a hurried looking Mrs. Holt. She gave a gasp and ushered them in, asking what happened.

“Lance slipped and we bonked our heads… Converses, not really the kind of shoes that agree with the rain, am I right?” mused Shiro as he made his way through to the living room with Lance in his arms. Pidge popped up from just up the way, giving a low whistle as her foster brother set the Cuban teen on the loveseat closest to the living room. 

“You didn’t brain him with that thick skull of yours, right?” she asked jokingly.

“I hope not,” answered Shiro, accepting a towel from Mrs. Holt and an ice pack, which he handed to Lance, making sure he had a good handhold on it before letting his hands leave the swimmer’s.

“Sorry…” the Cuban teen murmured, not reaching up to hold the pack to his aching face. 

“Don’t be,” said Shiro, Pidge, and Mrs. Holt in a slightly unnerving unison. The three traded looks and a knowing shrug- a common occurrence, no doubt. Mrs. Holt dismissed herself back to the kitchen while Pidge plopped down on the neighboring armchair. Shiro knelt in front of Lance, elbows perched on the seat cushion. “I should apologize for trying to push you too far. I should have been patient and let Mrs. Holt come back.”

“No...No, you’re fine. I should have just gotten out more carefully-”

Once more he was shushed, the same gentle ‘shhh’ from before, as Shiro took his hand and helped guide the pack to his forehead. Lance winced at the cold, but it certainly helped bring the pain slowly down.

“Accidents happen, Lance,” explained Pidge as she leaned forward to be heard better and hold his attention, “ And often times, there is no reason to apologize. We just want to make sure that thick head of yours isn’t broken- how else am I supposed to talk about my video games? Hunk doesn’t play and this mountain of muscle is completely lost to the enjoyment of simply bashing in bad guys skulls and just playing games for the sake of playing.”

As she spoke, Lance noticed Shiro’s face grow into that of a slightly blushing, sheepish one. “It’s true. I’m kinda of a sucker for finding secret meanings-”

“You mean overthinking and finding your own secret meanings about team building and all that technical stuff,” Pidge interrupted with a pointed look and a smirk.

“Ah, well,” the quarterback cleared his throat for a moment before giving a small, very sheepish shrug, “yes… I just can’t help it. Football and all.”

“I get what you mean. I sometimes get the same way with the swim team,” Lance said, a knowing tone in his voice, “At least I did with the relays… they only have me swim freestyle now…”

“Freestyle?” asked Shiro, raising a brow and glancing at his foster sister for an explanation.

“The freestyle stroke, also known as front crawl, is the fastest and most efficient of the competitive swimming strokes. That's why it is always used in the freestyle event of swimming competitions and is also often the preferred stroke of experienced swimmers and triathletes,” Pidge explained, tilting her glasses to give off a classic anime lens flare, or she at least imagined it did.

Lance gave a nod as she explained, smiling a little to himself, “I told my coach that I had a dream to be in the Olympics as a swimmer, like Michael Phelps. He told me if I want to follow that dream, I should focus just on freestyle. So he took me off relays… the only issue is, just me and one other person swim with the free stroke, and the other… is some jerk.” He directed his gaze elsewhere, frowning as his tone turned bitter.

“A jerk to you, or to the team?” asked Shiro. The quarterback sat back at this point, his knees no doubt aching from kneeling for so long. Still, he watched Lance with such an intensity, as if he was monitoring his every action. Lance wasn’t sure if it was out of concern or just a general interest.

“To me and some of my teammates. Anyone who isn’t buddy-buddy with him gets the cold shoulder at the very least...in my case, pure harassment.”

“Sendak has been a thorn in Lance’s side since sixth grade. If he hadn’t become friends with Hunk and me, I’m sure that Lance would have been hurt very badly because of Sendak… He’s horrible, just like that jerkface Zarkon,” said Pidge, her own bitterness showing as she sat back with a huff.

Shiro gave a silent nod, giving this all some thought. He knew of Sendak and Zarkon and their horrible treatment of unfortunate students that got in their way. He rubbed his shoulder at the small throb of phantom pain, willing it away. Looking back at Lance, he gave an encouraging smile. “Pidge told me about a club that one of her classmates was starting. They’re planning to help defend those who can’t defend themselves in the high school, victims of bullies and other harassment. I was on the fence about joining myself, mostly because of my position on the football team. But now it’s come to my attention that it doesn’t matter what position I have, but rather what position these bullies and delinquents are putting others in that really matters.”

Pidge sat up with an interested expression, like a cat noticing a treat or a mouse across their path. “Are you saying…?”

Shiro gave her a smile as Lance watched him with a sideways glance, “I want to join the club. If we don’t help our fellow classmates, who will?”

The young girl gave a delighted squeal and practically launched herself at her foster brother, almost bowling him over as she hugged him, chanting a bunch of thank yous and claiming he was the best brother ever. Lance watched as Pidge’s real brother, Matt, poked his head in from his room next to the kitchen with a look of indignance. Some sibling like tussle began between the Holt siblings, leaving Shiro laughing as he sat on the floor. Everything seemed to be moving without sound as Lance continued to watch the quarterback, his words echoing in his mind. His heart thumped a certain way, a strange wave washing over him. Something just yelled that this...this was a person he needed to be around, to follow. To be inspired by.

But just as quickly as this feeling came, it was quickly chased away as an alarm rang in his head- no, shit, that was his phone. Lance dug out his cell from his pocket and opened it, blinking at the message that scrolled across the screen. All sound rushed back as he realized a critical error on his part.

“Shit, I’m missing practice!”

Lance’s outburst was met with four oddly timed voices-- Shiro's thankfully not one of them-- snapping, “ _Language!_ ”

Had it not been for his current situation, he would have found it comical. Instead, he only looked at his phone in despair. His coach was going to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie, I wanted to write this chapter almost directly after the previous one. It's just my motivation to do so was seriously lacking. But, I hope y'all enjoy it and hey, lookie there, Lance got to first base without even trying- twice. 
> 
> Wait, does touching another's pec and getting carried bridal style count as first base? Hmm...
> 
> If anyone would like to submit fanart or ask questions, you can do so via my tumblr: weabooguppy.tumblr.com  
> Thanks for reading!


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